gone away are the golden days
by oswins
Summary: Amy looks up at the moon and the stars and the endless, spinning galaxies and wonders why she doesn't miss it. —Amy Pond and realizing the universe has been beside her the entire time. /Post Manhattan Amy and Rory, for Sylvia


a/n: for my darling sylvia. i'm sorry i am so dreadful at getting things done in time.

* * *

_gone away are the gold days  
just a page in my diary  
_-kate voegele

* * *

**yesterday**

Traveling with the Doctor was like a hurricane. An endless supernova of whirlwinds and colours and days which never came; it was a burnt out blur of beauty and every single shade of the goddamned spectrum merged into one shock of mind shattering beauty. They were days which tasted like endless galaxies stretched out over space, days which smelt of old books and dewy grass and _adventure. _

They were days in which Amy could forget who she was. She could pretend. She could act like she was something more than Little Amelia Pond, the girl from small town Leadworth who used to used to have an imaginary friend and grew up to be _trouble._

She could believe that the twelve years of waiting and heartache and convincing _everyone_ that her Doctor was going to come for her never happened; that when she was still innocent, naive Amelia Pond, that the Doctor had taken her away and her heart hadn't begun to turn to stone and splinter down the middle.

He winked at her, the edge of childish smile tugging at the corner of his face and she followed. Like a lamb into slaughter. Except she wasn't slaughtered - she came close to it, oh yes - but instead she _saw_, oh how she saw.

She saw empires crash and fall; universes fold up upon themselves until they were nothing more than ashes and dust and memories. She fought along side him and she watched as his eyes burned fire and passion and helpless loss, and Amy thought she had fallen in love.

But she hadn't, had she?

Because underneath the hard shell of her icy heart; under the hate and the neglect and the pain there was still that bit of childish naivety - the last shard of the Amelia Pond, caught in the midst of the cold, cold darkness.

So, when the Doctor took her back, he got her Rory, and Amy Pond: the girl who thought she could never love anyone else, fell right back into the unsuspecting trap that was Rory Williams.

Where the Doctor had shown her passion and fury and heartbreak, Rory should her something else. He taught her to love again. He showed her that there was so much more to life than traipsing around the universe, frantically trying to cling on the tails of the Doctor's coat so not to be left alone.

When the weeping angel takes him. When Rory _goes_: forever and ever and ever, Amy doesn't hesitate. It was as easy as grabbing the hand of a mad, old man in a blue box and leaving her life behind. Except this time she was leaving the Doctor.

She smiles at him, at her Raggedy Doctor - a worn, tired, sad, sad smile - a smile that tells a story of a little girl who grew up and fell in love. A smile of a woman who will follow that love to every corner of the universe.

And then Amy blinks.

She barely notices that the Doctor's gone. All she can feel are Rory's arms around her and all she can see through the mist of tears streaming down her face is a blank, cloudy sky above her and Amy doesn't even wonder where all the stars have gone.

* * *

**today**

There's never much chance to see that stars in New York, but Amy decides she doesn't need to. She has has Rory. He's a rock, an anchor, her love. She watches him as they lie side by side in bed, a slither of the New York sunset creeping in through the crack in the curtain, his chest rising and falling methodically - a constant drumbeat to a constant life. Rory's hair is mused by sleep and there's the slightest turn of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"You're being creepy," he murmurs, sleepily.

At the sound of his voice, something explodes within Amy's heart and she thinks that she would trade a million universes and shooting stars and aeons of crimson supernovas to hear that voice every goddamned morning.

"What are you thinking about?"

"The stars," Amy replies.

There's an odd sort of nostalgia in her stomach; the edge of yearning for something she doesn't really know anymore - like wishing for a long gone summer day when you were small which is just another yellow, cramped page in your diary now.

"Do you miss them?" Rory's hands are tracing small circles down the small of Amy's back and the sparks of electricity which cruise through her body, make her shiver right to the heart of her stitched up core.

Amy looks through the gap in the curtains, at the cardboard cutout skyline dominating the heavens. She looks at the bleak sky, tinged with just the perfect hue of early morning pink and she smiles; it's a small, lazy, completely, utterly and _content _smile as Amy turns to face Rory.

"I don't miss them at all," she tells him.

Rory's hand finds hers under the covers and together they lie, watching the sky turn from black to grey to pink.

* * *

**tomorrow**

The way Amy sees it the days are like stars. One moment they're there - sparkling, shining, dancing - a whole sun of unexplored hills and valleys and feelings, and the next they're gone and there's just a patch of empty sky littered with the edges of long gone memories.

She watches Rory has he turns in his sleep, his brow furrowed with lines. She wonders when they appeared - thick creases of worry and dread, ebbing into his skin as his memory drifted away.

Amnesia.

It's funny how one word from a strangers mouth can bring your whole world crumbling down.

"What do you see?" Amy murmurs.

Something lights up in Rory's eyes; it's a glimmer of memory, the last spark of a burning star flaring before it fades forever. "Amy." There's an fragility in Rory's voice that makes her heart burn. Rory's always been the strong one. Where she was an mess of emotion and colour and heat, he was the rock. She could hold is hand and she would feel like Atlas, holding up the world on her shoulders.

"I love you."

There's a sob in her throat, and it _burns_, trying to claw its way up.

"I love you so goddamned much."

Rory's hand loosens around hers.

"Stop it! Stop it! You stupid, bloody idiot - just stop it! You can't bloody leave me now. Not after all this time."

A tendril of hair which faded from ginger to white, a long time ago falls into her eyes, as tears begin to pour from her eyes. "Hold on, Rory."

"Stars." The words are slurred but they're still there. "We used to travel the stars."

"Yes, yes. With a man called the Doctor, remember? We used to see impossible things. We were - _are - _impossible, remember? But I left him - we left him - I left him because I could never leave you. Don't you understand? I can never leave you so please, please, I beg you: please don't leave me now."

A small, half smile turns the corners of Rory's mouth. "I don't-" the words cling to his tongue, trying to save the last remnants of his fading life. "I didn't do it for the stars."

"Rory-"

"I did it for you."

"Oh, Rory. Rory, Rory, Rory, Rory Williams."

Amy buries her head in Rory's chest and cries as the last spark of light fades from him forever.

Her face is wet with salty tears which _burn _as Amy realises that the entire universe, the sea of supernovas and every galaxy that ever was and ever would be, as been by her side the entire time.


End file.
